whats the point of love if its never permanent? why all i feel is pain what i do to be deserving it? all this hurt and shit im tired of my heart being burnt to a crisp. feeling dead inside and i dont think ill ever recover. this is comming from a person who got thrown away by his own mother. everything happened so fast is should have seen it comming. how can i face my own problems when everyone else in my life is running so far away and leaving me to die. a bottle in my hand and a knife in my heart i keep on asking why. so whats the point of me getting out of bed to even write this poem? since everyone wants me dead and gone i think ill show them. you can call me a suicide risk and this a cry for help. but its not..just remembering every second of how i hate myself. if my brother didnt get all the guns out the crib my brains would be on the floor because since true happiness doesnt exist i dont want to live anymore.
                                             Come Die With Me.